by J. T. Edson
Down and down Dawn went. Although vaguely aware of the predicament she was in, her mind refused to function. In a way, her dazed state was fortunate. If she had tried to halt her progress, she could easily have made things worse. Instead, she was tumbling limply and with her body yielding rather than trying to resist when it came up against the branches.
Dropping the final ten feet, the girl was lucky in that she came down on a thick layer of leaves and moss. Being so relaxed, the worse effects of the fall were broken. For all that, her landing jarred all the breath from her body. After a brief period when everything appeared to explode into a brilliant burst of colors, blackness descended like a cloud over her and she lay still.
Having heard the commotion as Dawn fell and noticing the silence that followed it, Sabart and Chanak advanced in a wary and watchful fashion. As yet, Elidor and Mador had not caught up with them. Nor did they offer to wait until the High Priest’s adherents could do so. Chanak had discarded his lance soon after crossing the stream, having found it more of a hindrance while passing through the denser growth, especially as he wanted to keep ahead of the other two. So he was riding with his sword unsheathed and in his right hand.
For her part, Sabart was perturbed and not a little afraid. Ever since the eerie cry had arisen from the depths of the bushes, followed by sounds such as a rhinoceros made when it was attacking and the scream of a man—the eagle’s attendant, Shanu, most likely—in mortal agony, she had been experiencing a sensation of superstitious dread. Nor had it grown less at the events which had followed.
According to Chanak, the foreign girl’s tracks had disappeared in a way that suggested she had climbed the inclined trunk of a tree. However, there had been no sign of her among the foliage. Instead, they had heard noises from the branches of the nearby trees which had been suggestive of those made by a monkey leaping from one to another—except that something larger and heavier was responsible for them.
Remembering the various stories she had heard about the ‘Hairy People’ and being uncomfortably aware that she was approaching what was said to be their domain, Sabart was troubled by her thoughts. She could not forget how Tomlu had been killed, with the arrow sunk so deeply into his chest through his breastplate.
No ordinary human being could have done such a thing!
What if—?
‘There she is!’
Chanak’s excited comment cut through Sabart’s uneasy sequence of thoughts. Looking in the direction which he was indicating, she let out a sigh of relief and urged her banar-gatah forward with a greater willingness than she had up to now been displaying.
Crossing the small clearing, Sabart and Chanak halted the zebras. After a quick glance around, they dismounted and stood over Dawn’s unconscious body. They could hear Elidor and Mador approaching and exchanged delighted glances.
‘We’ve got her, Chanak!’ Sabart enthused, unaware that a similar sentiment was being expressed by her rival.
Elidor and Mador had not made any special effort to catch up with the Protectress’s supporters. Instead, they had been content to follow at a distance which would have allowed them to retire if the foreign girl had led them into an ambush. They had closed the gap somewhat, due to the other two slowing down when they reached the place where Dawn had taken to the trees.
‘May the Quagga God curse them!’ Elidor spat out, glaring furiously through the undergrowth and across the clearing. ‘They’ve caught the foreign bitch!’
‘Dryaka won’t be pleased when we go back and say Charole’s got her,’ Mador answered, scowling malevolently and making what his companion considered to be an understatement.
‘I wouldn’t want to have to go back and tell him,’ Elidor declared, bringing her banar-gatah to a halt. ‘And I’ve no intention of doing it.’
In the clearing by Dawn’s body, Chanak nodded his agreement with Sabart’s statement. Then he turned to his zebra. He opened the left side saddlebag and removed a long rawhide thong. Going to Dawn and kneeling at her side, he rolled her onto her stomach. After pulling her hands behind her back, ignoring her groan and feeble movements as she struggled to regain consciousness, he used the thong to secure her wrists. Having done so, he drew the Randall knife from its sheath.
Although Chanak’s primary intention had been to disarm the girl, the look and feel of the weapon attracted his attention. He did not realize that he was holding an example of what Judge Roy S. Tinney, secretary of the American Academy of Arms, had described as ‘a refined and perfected Bowie’, or that the eight-inch-long, clip-pointed blade was hand-made from the finest Swedish tool steel. However, he could tell that it might be as special and unusual as the bow and arrows with which she had dispatched Charole’s eagle and Tomlu.
‘This is mine!’ the man stated, showing the knife to Sabart.
‘Charole will see that you get it when we deliver this bitch to her,’ the woman answered, stirring the weakly struggling and groaning girl with her left toe. ‘I can hardly wait to see what she’ll do to her.’
Being so full of themselves and absorbed in their respective sources of delight—Sabart because Dawn had been captured, and Chanak because he had gained almost certain possession of something which he knew was very special—two very important matters had slipped right out of their minds.
When sending the party to capture Dawn, Dryaka had deliberately avoided any mention of the importance that he attached to also obtaining her bow and arrows. For all that, her captors ought to have given thought to the fact that she was no longer carrying them.
Of infinitely greater importance to them personally was the fact that neither was giving any consideration to how their rivals might react when learning that they had achieved their purpose.
The latter omission was to cost them dearly.
Sabart was the first to become aware that they were being remiss in their behavior. Hearing the sound of hooves behind her, she turned with the intention of displaying her triumph to her rival. What she saw drove all thoughts of enjoyment and satisfaction from her head. One glance was all she needed to realize that she and her companion were in grave danger.
While Elidor and Mador had entered the clearing side by side, only the man was mounted. That the woman was on foot of her own free will was shown by the thing which she was carrying in her right hand. That, and the way in which Mador was sitting on his banar-gatah gave a grim warning that they did not intend to surrender their claim to the prisoner, despite her having fallen into their rivals’ hands.
‘Chanak!’ Sabart screamed, sending her right hand
across towards the hilt of her sword. ‘Look behi—’
Darting forward, Elidor drew back and snapped forward her right arm. The spear which she had drawn from its retaining loops on the skirt of her saddle left her hand and flashed across the clearing. Its point struck Sabart just below the left breast and impaled her before she could even start to draw the sword or to attempt any kind of evasion.
With her warning ending in a shriek of agony, the stricken woman spun around and bumped into Chanak. It could not have happened at a worse moment. Having glanced around, he too had appreciated the peril and was preparing to counter it. He was thrusting himself erect, letting Dawn’s knife drop as he reached for the sword—a more familiar weapon—that he had sheathed before seeming their prisoner. Rebounding after having knocked her companion off balance, Sabart clutched ineffectually at the spear’s handle and fell alongside Dawn.
As the spear was leaving Elidor’s hand, a touch from Mador’s heels gave his well-trained banar-gatah the signal which it had been expecting since its rider had lowered his lance to the ready’ position. The animal bounded forward, guided by knee pressure rather than control from the reins held in the man’s left hand. It built up speed rapidly, making for what its instincts said was the object of its master’s attentions.
Watching Chanak staggering from the collision with Sabart, Mador let out a hiss of triumph. The mishap had put the Protectress’s adh
erent at his mercy. However, he knew better than to take chances with a man as experienced as Chanak was in fighting on foot against a mounted, lance-carrying opponent. With the banar-gatah carrying him into striking distance, he aligned his weapon at a downwards angle.
Chanak recognized his terrible predicament, but could do nothing to avert it. Nor did he have any false hopes about surviving the encounter.
While a Mun-Gatah’s breastplate would turn aside the usual kind of arrows with which the wearer was brought into conflict, their own lances were a very different proposition. At the end of the nine foot shaft of male bamboo, the head had a twelve-inches-long, diamond-section steel blade that was two-and-a-half-inches at its widest and tapered to an acute point. It was retained in position by a pair of steel languets some three feet long which extended down the pole and were secured by six screws on each side. xxxv All in all, it made a very deadly weapon and was one which the Mun-Gatah warriors had brought to the peak of efficiency.
Before Chanak could regain his equilibrium, the point of Mador’s lance met the centre of his chest. The High Priest’s supporter had the rear end of the shaft tucked under his right arm and was pressing it tight against his ribs. In addition to his hand grasping the shaped grip at the point of balance, greater firmness and security was achieved from the rawhide loop that was attached just above it and encircled his wrist.
Aided by the banar-gatah’s onrushing impetus, the lance’s head cut through Chanak’s breastplate and into the flesh below. The impact threw him backwards and from his feet. Turning his hand as his victim went down and his mount rushed by, Mador released his hold and slipped his wrist from the loop. Reining the banar-gatah around, he drew his sword and, when the turn was completed, sprang from the saddle. He knew there would be no need for the second weapon. Pinned to the ground by the lance, Chanak lay supine with his limbs flailing spasmodically. Even that movement ended before Mador reached him.
‘She’s ours now, Mador!’ Elidor stated delightedly, placing her foot on Sabart’s lifeless body as an aid in retrieving her spear. ‘We’ll have to do something about Stafak, though.’
‘We’ll give him the same as these two,’ Mador stated. ‘Then, when we get back, we’ll say that we were separated and pretend to be surprised that they aren’t back.’
‘She could spoil that for us,’ Elidor warned, indicating the still unconscious girl.
‘Not if she doesn’t know what’s happened,’ Mador pointed out. ‘Take them and their banar-gatahs into the woods where she’ll not be able to see them. Then go and kill Stafak. I’ll look after her.’
‘Make sure that look is all you do,’ Elidor advised, knowing the man. ‘Dryaka wanted her for himself.’
Chapter Twelve – I’ll Break Every Bone In Your Body
‘Bunduki! Bunduki! Help!’
Standing on the crotch of the tree into which he had climbed to make preparations for spending the night, the blond giant dropped the leaves he had gathered on to the pile of branches as he heard Joar-Fane’s terror-filled voice screaming the words.
Having heard Dawn’s distress call, without having realized that it was she who had given it, Bunduki had—much to Joar-Fane’s annoyance—insisted upon resuming their journey. He had reduced her irritation by explaining to her his plans for ensuring their safety from prowling carnivores during the hours of darkness. Accepting the situation with what good grace she could muster, she had apparently consoled herself by considering and anticipating the pleasures which she felt sure lay ahead. Certainly, she had been cheerful enough as she had walked along at his side.
By the time the sun had started to set, Bunduki and Joar-Fane had been approaching the more open woodland. Completely unaware that Dawn had been taken captive by the Mun-Gatahs, although he still had the subconscious belief that she was somewhere to the northwest and might be in danger, the blond giant had realized that trying to continue the search after night had fallen would be futile. So he had selected a tree which met his requirements and, while Joar-Fane had taken the remains of the capybara’s leg to wash it in a stream they had passed a short while earlier, he had set about making the kind of a bed that chimpanzees and the Mangani used in the branches of trees.
Looking downwards, Bunduki found that the undergrowth prevented him from discovering the cause of Joar-Fane’s cry for help. So he did not waste time in making useless speculation. Instead, he grabbed the vine which he had cut so that its end was dangling to the ground in order to help the girl attain their bed-platform. Going down hand over hand at considerable speed, he let go and dropped when certain he could do so without risk of injury. Although his bow and arrows were lying at the foot of the tree, he did not pause to gather them up. As soon as he alighted, he started to run towards the point from which he had last heard the girl.
Bunduki did not know what to expect as he sprinted through the bushes. Nor was there anything to supply a clue. After her first shouted words, Joar-Fane had been silent. Nor had he heard any other sounds that might have accounted for her state of alarm. It was possible that she had fallen foul of Bul-Mok’s family, or another group of Mangani. Or it might be some kind of animal which was stalking her. No matter what it was, there was nothing to suggest that it had caught or was attacking her.
Passing around the edge of a clump of bushes, the blond giant received the answer.
At the far side of the clearing, Joar-Fane was standing with her back against the trunk of a tree. She was grasping a thick piece of a branch in the manner of a club and glaring at the tall, shapely, black-haired woman who was stalking arrogantly towards her. Nor was the woman alone. There were three men present. The largest was standing with his back to the blond giant, watching Joar-Fane and the woman. Advancing along the edges of the clearing, the other two were positioned to cut off the girl if she tried to run either way.
All of the quartet were dressed and armed in much the same manner. While the woman’s hair had no covering, the men had on leather helmets decorated on each side by the embossed head of a horse—or a zebra. All wore one piece, short, white tunics—the woman’s being sleeveless—and had a sword shaped like the gladius of a Roman soldier in a scabbard on the left side of the belt. They had sandals on their feet and leather greaves protected their shins.
Ground hitched by their dangling one-piece reins, the four saddled animals among the trees at the left side of the clearing supplied the blond giant with a clue to the quartet’s identity. He had already suspected that they might be the party sent by the Mun-Gatahs’ People-Taker to recapture Joar-Fane. There was a white garment of some kind hanging from each saddle’s cantle, but he did not waste time in trying to decide what they might be.
‘Watch her, Latica!’ called the biggest man, drawing Bunduki’s attention from the zebras. He was clearly more amused than perturbed by the girl’s threatening attitude. ‘She might be an Amazon in disguise.’
‘I’ll “Amazon” her!’ the woman answered, without looking back or offering to draw her sword. Put that stick down, damn you, or I’ll break every bone in your body.’
‘You try it and see what I’ll do!’ Joar-Fane replied spiritedly, seeing the blond giant at the edge of the clearing and wanting to prevent the Mun-Gatahs from becoming aware of his presence. ‘I’m not afraid of you.’
Having reached his conclusion regarding the identity of the quartet, Bunduki was taking advantage of their preoccupation with the girl and was moving forward. Noticing that she had seen him, he was pleased by the way she was acting. She was behaving in a much braver and more intelligent manner than he would have expected.
Remembering what Joar-Fane had told him about the Mun-Gatahs, the blond giant doubted whether he could save her by peaceful means. Nor, if he was correct in his assumption of where he had been transported by his unknown saviors, could he follow the dictates of the civilized society in which he had been born and raised. He must be ready to fight and kill if he wanted to survive and rescue the girl.
Accepting that
there was no other choice, Bunduki ran towards the largest of the men. His bare feet made little sound on the springy turf and the man, who almost matched him in size and bulk, was not aware of his approach. That was all to the good and the big blond hoped to turn it to his advantage. If he could take the man by surprise and use him as a hostage, it might still be possible to avoid bloodshed.
‘You’re up against a fierce one th—’ the warrior at the right commenced.
The words died away as the speaker became aware of a figure coming from the bushes ahead of him. Dressed in a jaguar-skin loincloth, the newcomer had his right leg bandaged by leaves and was limping along using a stout spear as a crutch. In his left hand, he held a weapon of a kind the Mun-Gatah had never seen. He looked like a Telonga, except that those with whom the People-Taker’s party had come into contact were never armed, nor so muscular.
Studying the newcomer’s black hair, dark skin and Polynesian features, Bunduki assumed that he belonged to Joar-Fane’s people. However, despite the thing like a czdkan that he was carrying, his injured leg would reduce his effectiveness in a fight.
‘An armed Telonga, as I live and breathe!’ the warrior on the right shouted derisively and looked behind him.
‘I’ll need your he—’ Once again he did not complete a speech. Instead, he started to swing around and his right hand went to the hilt of the sword as he shouted, ‘Behind you!’
Hearing and seeing the change in his companions words and behavior, the third male member of the party glanced back. What he saw caused him to duplicate the second’s actions. The woman threw a look to her rear and half-turned, reaching for her sword. Unaware of At-Vee’s arrival on the scene, as he was coming from behind her, Joar-Fane let out a yell and, swinging the club above her head in both hands, sprang forward.
Seeing first one, then the other warrior turning and preparing to arm themselves, Bunduki abandoned his ideas of trying to take the nearest man as a hostage. The , other two appeared to be devoting their attentions to him and ignoring the newcomer. Nor, if the painful way in which he was moving meant anything, would the Telonga be of much use. Certainly he could not come quickly enough to be of assistance. So Bunduki put aside his original notion of giving the largest man a chance to turn and fight. The odds were sufficiently high without him adding to them by pandering to ideals of fair play and chivalry. He knew that such sentiments would not be accorded to him if their positions were reversed.